No Rest For The Weary
by Iapetus
Summary: During a lull in activity at the clinic, Anders slips away to relieve some tension. Justice does not approve.  For a writing challenge, set in Act 2.


It was difficult to tell the passage of time in Darktown. Perhaps that was appropriate, given that it was _Dark_town, but Anders had never been fond of it. But this was the best place for his clinic – close to the people who needed his help and still somewhat hidden from the templars. It would have to do.

On the long days when he had a line of patients that wouldn't end, he watched how the candles burned to tell him how much time had elapsed. It kept him sane, helped him focus when his mana got low and he needed to rest. There was always a part of him that said he shouldn't rest, to take a lyrium potion and keep going. It was Justice, he knew, but every day their thoughts felt more and more fluid. He had to think about his thoughts after he had them, think about how things once were, to even tell them apart now. Often he forgot to do so.

Anders wondered if Justice was making him forget to do it.

Today there had been a collapse of a stairway on the southern part of Darktown. The injured were immediately taken to him.

Three hours and two lyrium potions later, they were healed and on their way. Today hadn't been busy before then. It was the sort of time, most times, that Hawke would show up. Somehow he just _knew_ when Anders wasn't busy. Knew that he wouldn't be missed for a short time, and could he help on a small mission in Hightown? Or maybe by the Docks? Anders wasn't quite sure how he did it.

If he moved quickly, he would have a chance for a short break before someone else showed up.

Ducking out of sight into his sleeping area, Anders undid the front of his robes with a sigh. There were days that the fastest way to get rid of tension was this, to take himself in his hand, and today he had had some help. One of the men who carried the wounded had been quite handsome. Anders took his duties as a healer seriously, but in another time, another life, he might have pursued the man later. Now, no, it was not good to get attached, not good to have random trysts with strangers. He wasn't that person anymore.

But he could dream.

The man had long brown hair, tied back messily to keep it out of his face for the important task at hand. Healing the injured. No, he told himself, that was done and he could take a break. Thinking about the sick would not make him aroused – do just the opposite, in fact.

He focused on the arms then, flexed under the stress of being used, and _there we go_, his body started to respond. Anders wondered if the man did archery. If he had had time to look a little longer, he would have known. He had spent too long in the company of archers, having to heal them with their shirts off, to not know what those muscles looked like.

Too little time around Nathaniel, too much time around Sebastian, he thought.

That was a sobering thought too – of how he missed his old friend, and then how he found it disturbing how a man he hated so much could still make his body ache. Focusing on Nathaniel reminded him of how the man was no longer at his side – thinking of Sebastian made him think of all the disagreements they had, how the fool defended the Chantry so blindly-

_No_, he told himself. If he really wanted to, he could think of that later.

The fight to bring his thoughts under control stretched the tension in his body, and it wasn't all the good sort. He was being drawn like a bow – there he was with the archery again – and worried that he wouldn't find what he needed before someone came in. With his luck, he knew he would finally be getting somewhere by that point, and it would feel worse to stop.

At least these thoughts had not dampened his interest completely. His fingers coiled around his arousal and he pumped, for a few moments trying to focus on sensation alone.

He tried to think of past trysts, and Maker, when _had_ been the last time he got laid? Not since he and Justice merged. It had been back in Vigil's Keep with… one of the servant girls? Or was it one of the guards? His memory was hazy, and when he tried to focus it only grew more confusing. Ok, _don't_ think of their faces. Think about the way skin felt on skin, moving inside of them-

Anders was hard now, _finally_, and he pumped his fist in earnest. There was no longer any time to drag this out. He had no luxury for such things.

There was still a feeling of disinterest in his mind, that he should be making health potions or cleaning when he had a spare minute, not this. He was fighting for something bigger than himself, and this was selfish. He should be ashamed.

Anders swallowed hard. This _was_ Justice, wasn't it? There was no answer to his inquiry. He knew in truth that they were two sides to the same sovereign now, but some days he tried to think that they were still separate. He didn't hear Justice the way he had when they first merged. Then it had been like a voice in his head. Now…

Damnit. How could he be this distracting? If he had let Anders have his time alone, he could have been done by now.

Anders pushed all of those thoughts out of his head. No, he was still the master of himself. Justice was a guest in his body, and he would have to deal with the desires of a man because that's what Anders was. He wasn't noble like a Fade Spirit who didn't have a physical body.

Though Justice was not the noble spirit he was all those years ago in Vigil's Keep.

He focused on whatever he could to block out the distracting thoughts of Justice – trying to stay a step ahead but never quite keeping up. With a few more strokes he finally felt close, that he was about to win this fight, and then-

"Are you here, Anders?" It was Hawke.

Anders could have screamed in frustration, but instead bit his lip. Maybe if he stayed quiet, Hawke would go away. But it wouldn't be right to deceive his friend, not after all he had done for him. Them. Him.

"I'll be out in a moment," he heard himself say, and realized that he hadn't consciously decided to speak. Still hard, he fixed his robes and was grateful that his arousal wouldn't be visible with how his robes hung.

There would be no rest for him today.


End file.
